Normal People Scare Me

I am fine on my own yet I don’t want to be alone. There’s a difference.

But once I step into a crowded room all I hear is static with a fizzing sound that makes my skin crawl and stomach twist and turn like a rollercoaster speeding through an endless loop-the-loop but I can’t get off this ride because I have to be a human or maybe it’s better to become a mechanical machine so I can talk to these other human beings but then I wouldn’t be myself and I already feel like an outsider surrounded by all of these eyes staring at me with lips moving but words not fully reaching my ears because I am a deer caught in the headlights of their gaze while I’m trapped in an invisible box that only I can see and it separates us because they are normal, unlike me.

But as soon as I break away from the scene

I can finally breathe.

I am the body of an author

Onism

I am the body of a singer The two worlds collide and cause myself to collapse.

I want to write what I feel

I am stuck in this one body where I can’t be in two places at once.

I want to perform on the stage

What If I could split myself in half? Or duplicate my being? Then I would only have half the fun.

Someday the two bodies will connect like twin flames intersecting and morph as one.

Are You Weak?

Yes.

I take a deep breath, burying the anxieties in my chest, anything to stop my head from spinning.

The heart is constrained, beating against the metal bars of its cage, and I wonder how much more I can take.

and wishing to be perfect the girl caves in like crumpled paper reminded of her defects she wonders what if you erase her?

No.

I paint my face, adorning my body with décor, anything to make my appearance roar.

I move through the sludge of life, trudging over the bones of those who’ve failed, and I think that makes me strong as hell.

Erase Her a word written on a line a drawing infected by mistakes can be corrected and made fine once you flip the pencil and erase. what’s a human to do when they no longer feel fine? when their life’s a mistake? and you can’t fix your design?

Going up or going down?

I ride the same elevator day after day. My apartment is on the top floor. Everything is always the same. I begin the journey in the center, Waiting for people to pile in and fill the gaps.

A moment goes by and I hear a ding.

Buried in a hood, the teenage boy steps inside, blocking the world out with his earbuds.

Following him, a couple of gossipy gals wearing suffocating scents of musk mixed with rose.

Walking in with a swagger, is the guy in Harry Potter glasses and a fedora.

His scratchy sweater scrapes against my skin.

Next few floors down, the lady with too much makeup strolls in with a scowl on her face (as usual) Did she ever smile?

I feel invisible and want to escape.

Eventually I find myself squished in the corner, while everyone talks to someone but me. My anxiety makes my stomach ache. But then a stranger catches my eye. This person acknowledged my existence. I will never forget the simple question they asked me…

“Going up or going down?”